The People We Trust

Posted on July 7, 2010

My car is with my mechanic at the moment, and I am now sitting in my kitchen waiting for the prognosis, a bit like a patient in a doctors surgery waiting for the results of a urine sample. One presumes that whatever figure I have in my head will be doubled, as it is rare you hear a mechanic give you good news. In fact if your mechanic was your doctor you wouldn’t go, as you would be greeted with gritted teeth, a sucking of the lips, and a sharp in take of air, before being told you were dying.

Of course I am lucky, as my mechanic is the best in the area, as is my accountant, my solicitor, and my doctor. I extend my good fortune of having the best possible people in the area to my chiropractor, my golf club, and even my son’s cricket coach. Of course this is all utter nonsense and defence mechanism that we all put up to justify the vast amounts of money we are outlaying on these people, as decent people assume professionals will be decent to them in return, though occasionally, sadly, this is not the case. I can remember many construction workers I knew in Tadley and Basingstoke claiming their accountant was the the best bloke in the universe until he ran off with their national insurance stamps.

The truth is I nothing about cars, and the one time I tried to pretend to my mechanic I knew what I was talking about I made myself look like a pratt (see here) so now I just don’t bother, I give him the keys, leave, and hope that the fact that he is half the price of the local Mercedes garage is because he has an oily workshop as an overhead, and they have a bloody great space age building full of filter coffee machines, plush carpets, Country Life magazines that make you feel poor, and semi attractive women importantly shuffling paper. My mechanic has a tea stained Starsky and Hutch mug and an old copy of Razzle. However, every time I have been there, my car has worked afterwards, so in my eyes he is the best mechanic in the area, and I am proud of him.

We all like our own people we hire, because we like to feel that we have been quite clever in finding them, and that we have researched everything and found the best person in the job. One of my personal favourites is; “My solicitor is a Rottweiller…..he is the best around.” This sort of statement normally comes from someone who has never been to a Solicitor before, and is quite rightly trying to justify £250 for an hours consultation whilst trying to shit the life out of their ex partner, who by coincidence, has just employed the other best Solicitor in the area. It has become somewhat apparent that every solicitor in Basingstoke (and there are many) is in fact a bit of a Rottweiller, and the best in the area, and this is a Nationwide concept that allows them to justify their extortion. It probably forms part of a Law Degree. Section 18 part 1B: How to belittle your client in to thinking you are so fucking important that they will deposit all their earnings into your Swiss bank account.

Unfortunately, for those of us who don’t know the law, who can’t do accountancy, and can’t mend a car, we just have to go with our gut feeling and trust who we employ. When we defend them, we are defending ourselves and the money we have outlaid. There is nothing wrong with that, it shows good, all be it naive human spirit. What really really annoys me though is………………uurggh I can hardly say it I am cringing so much…………..aaaarggghhhh………….right here it comes………………
“My Financial Advisor……………the best Financial Advisor around by the way, because he is independent you see………… has told me that despite the catastrophic failure of an endowment policy I unwittingly purchased when I was 20, that I should not cancel it, but top it up with more money.” I am sorry there is no excuse for believing a Financial Advisor, no matter how independent the smarmy twat tells you he is, just like there is no excuse for believing an Estate agent, a Mortgage advisor or a Kirby Vacuum cleaner salesman.

Right, now off to the mechanic to be told: “Actually Bob, your car is fine, it was just a bit of grit in the brake pads that I have now removed. Don’t be silly now, put your wallet away, and have this one on me…………..fancy a coffee?……..Latte or Cappuccino?”

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